The Five Times Callen Got Kissed (and One Time He Didn't)
by scarlet79
Summary: Pretty self-explanatory, though the first and third shots feature my OC who will make her debut in a soon-to-be-published NCIS:LA fanfic. Made mostly for my own enjoyment though I don't mind sharing ;) Rated K-plus for mild language.
1. Chapter 1

_AN: I've seen a bunch of these types of fics on here, and thought I'd try my hand on a few. And as Callen is my main squeeze right now, he seemed like a perfect guinea pig, not to mention the fact that we don't get to see him in too many successful relationships. I don't know about anyone else, but it leaves me a little...frustrated. He's so adorable, he needs some love, too! _

_The first and third stories (one-shots?) kind of introduce my OC Bethany Woods, who will be featured in a fic I'm still working on. I plan to start posting that one very soon, now that I have a good number of chapters written. With any luck it will be finished soon!_

* * *

><p>The Five Times Callen Got Kissed<p>

(And the one time he didn't)

1.

Sam was on vacation with his family. This left his partner alone, though that was just fine with said partner. He had been alone a long time before joining NCIS, so he was used to doing things on his own. But when a case came up and Eric whistled for them to get up to OPS, Hetty broke the news that she had assigned Agent Bethany Woods to Sam's usual place beside the unshakable G. Callen.

Turns out, the prospect of having a female partner was all that was needed to shake him. He begged, he bargained, he even tried to guilt Hetty into letting him work alone, but she would hear none of it. Bethany was his partner until Sam returned, and that was the end.

Despite his initial misgivings, Beth was a good agent, and an even better partner for Callen. She read him easily, knowing when to step back and let him lead and when to speak up herself. She patiently allowed him his brooding silences, claiming that she understood the need for quiet reflection. She once told him that she also found her own times of deep thought refreshing, mourning the fact that she had precious little time to indulge in them.

Right now was one of those rare times, and they both sat in comfortable silence as they ran surveillance on a gun smuggler. Watching from the car as he met a colleague in the park, Callen sat in the driver's seat with a freshly-opened bottle of soda tucked between his knees as Beth's camera – complete with telephoto lens – snapped photos of the meeting. She made sure to get a few close-ups of a large wad of money changing hands, and when the other man walked away from the target and in the opposite direction from where they parked, she tucked the camera back in its bag and said, "Well, those should be fun to put in the album later."

Callen smirked. "Would've figured you for a scrapbooker."

She wrinkled her nose. "Too much work."

They turned back to the windshield then and noticed their target looking directly at them, a suspicious look creeping onto his face.

"Uh oh," Callen said.

Before he could move, Beth grabbed his face and planted her lips on his. He was so startled all he could do was sit there, but then soon rational thought returned and he played his part of the lovers-in-the-car ploy, wrapping his hands in her hair and kissing her back. With one eye on the smuggler, who had now decided to watch them in amusement, Callen tried to keep himself grounded, to distract himself from the fact that a beautiful brunette was currently devouring his lips and making it very hard to breathe. Just when he was finding coherent thought growing fuzzy, Beth's knee bumped his leg, and he felt his soda fall over and spill onto his lap. The cold liquid soaked into his pants and he gasped, jerking out of her grasp. Puzzled and a little embarrassed at how carried away she had gotten, she glanced down to see why he had pulled away and she blushed even harder.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I was...I forgot you had that..."

He chuckled as he searched the glove box and found a stack of napkins to sop up the mess. "At least he took the bait. That was a close call."

Biting her lip, she dropped her gaze and then turned to look out the window. Softly, and a little sadly, she said, "Yeah. It sure was."


	2. Chapter 2

The Five Times Callen Got Kissed

(And the one time he didn't)

**2.**

His whole body felt as if it was on fire. His muscles too weak to function, he couldn't even lift his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead. It hurt to move; even breathing was hard, reducing him to taking short gasps of air that did little to ease the burning in his lungs.

He discovered also, when he cracked his eyelids open and took in his surroundings, that even his eyes felt hot, and his tears stung so that he quickly gave up and shut them again. In that single glance and as sick as he was, he had been able to glean a good bit of information, and using his other senses he soon filled in the blanks.

He was in a tent, in a desert. From the language being spoken outside, he knew he was in Afghanistan, and the brightness of the tent's white walls told him it was daytime, probably around noon. Everything else was fuzzy – how he got here, who he was with, why he was in the country in the first place. Also puzzling was why his leg was throbbing and why he was so sick. He could remember nothing about that, and for an agent like him that was a little scary.

He heard the tent flap open, and a dozen different smells reached his nose. He tried to concentrate on separating them but his fevered brain refused, leaving them a jumbled mess that made him nauseous. Someone was in the room with him now. Though they were trying to stay as quiet as possible, he could feel their presence as sure as if they'd spoken, close to where he lay. He tried to move again, but the furthest he got was his hand flopping against the floor. Speaking was likewise out of the question, as if he could manage to open his mouth he was certain nothing would make it past his dry throat anyway.

The person sat down beside him. He could feel the pressure of their leg against his. Their hands pulled the stifling blanket down to his waist, exposing his bare chest; he wished the air hitting his skin was cool, but it was more like the draft from a broiler oven.

"Callen," the person said then, and all at once clarity ruled.

_Kensi._

Kensi was there with him. They were here together, and while they slept that first night he'd been bitten by a camel spider. Not poisonous to humans, but painful and prone to infection, which is probably what happened to him, why he was burning with fever and lying on the floor of this tent.

He struggled to open his eyes, blinking against the stinging, and saw her face haloed above him. Unable to speak, he twitched his lips in a lopsided grin and managed a slight nod of his head.

"I brought you a few things to help," she said. Then, one by one, she listed out the contents of the bag she had dumped out in front of her. "Instant broth, a washcloth, clean water, antibiotics and some syringes...Oh! And, a most precious commodity out here – ice!"

Triumphantly, she held up a clear Ziploc bag full of slowly melting ice cubes, and Callen sighed in relief. Kensi wrapped the bag in the washcloth and set it on his bare chest, and he could have cried, it felt so blessedly cold. Her hand, also cold from contact with the ice, pressed against the side of his face, and he closed his eyes as her touch comforted him.

"Don't worry, Callen. I'm gonna get you better."

Then, her lips gently brushed against his forehead, and he let sleep overtake him once more.


	3. Chapter 3

**3.**

She was angry.

He could tell by the rigid set of her spine, by the way she refused to turn around and look at him. The one-word answers she was giving him might as well have been underlined in red.

"Beth..." he began, her name a sigh on his lips.

She didn't face him, but flinched when he called her name, her shoulders hunched up to her neck.

She uttered a very terse "What?"

"Talk to me."

"There's nothing to say."

"Nothing."

She shook her head.

"Okay," he said. "Then I'll talk." He moved to take a step toward her, then thought better of it. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he said, "I'm used to Sam as my partner. When something bothers him, he doesn't wait to tell me."

"Well, I'm not Sam."

"No. But sometimes, even with a partner I've known for so long, mistakes are made."

She huffed. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"I should have told you. I should have warned you what was coming."

"What would it have mattered? It's not like my opinion counts in something like that."

Now it was his turn to scoff. "Really? Because it seemed to bother you at the time."

"It didn't."

"I saw your face," he told her. "I'm not blind, Beth."

She whirled around to face him, her eyes stormy. "I barely know you. Besides, I was a little too busy with a gun being pointed in my face to worry about some chick slobbering all over you. And by the way, thanks for leaving me like that."

"That was the other thing I was going to mention. I shouldn't have left you."

"Damn right."

"I let the mission get too important, and I'm sorry."

"It was my first time out in the field – I mean, really _on_ a case - and I could've been killed. Do you even know how afraid I was?"

"Yes, I do."

She glared at him. "So, you knew what you were doing to me, and you went and left me anyway?"

"You..." he made a sound like a growl and then shouted, "I already apologized! What else do you want from me, Beth? A promise that I won't do it again? I can't say that!"

"I want you to understand how abandoned I felt. And you, of all people, were the one to make me feel that way!"

"That's the job, honey," Callen spat. "If you can't deal with it then go back to filing papers."

"Oh, you'd love that, wouldn't you?"

"No. But it's not up to me. I happen to think you can handle the field, but if you don't I can't make you."

She walked away again, leaning against the boathouse's picture window. "You're not too big on sympathy, are you?"

Callen stood still for a moment, blinking in disbelief. Then, his voice low, he said, "If you knew half the things I've seen, or been through, you would never ask that. Look, if you wanna think I'm an ass for keeping up my cover, fine. But don't talk to me about sympathy when the only thing you know about me is what you can see on the outside. I would never disrespect you like that, and I won't stand around and put up with it from anyone else. Especially you."

As he contemplated either punching the wall or walking away, Beth pulled in a shaky breath and let it out slowly, watching her breath fog the glass in front of her. She had never seen him so angry, and knowing that she had been the one to make him that way sent a twinge of guilt through her heart. Sure, things hadn't gone as they'd expected during the op, but the mark of a true agent was improvising, thinking on their feet. While she had stumbled at that, Callen had remained flawless in his acting. Even as mad as she was, she kind of admired that about him.

"Callen," she finally said, still facing the window, "you're right. I'm being selfish – among other things – and I'm sorry. Someday maybe you can tell me what you've been through, so I can understand who G. Callen really is."

Still upset, he nodded curtly even though she was facing the other way and couldn't see him. "Someday."

Beth turned and took a step toward him, her features sufficiently chastened. "You know," she said shyly, hesitantly laying her palm flat against his chest, "I never did thank you for coming to my rescue, did I?"

"No, you didn't."

She reached up and kissed his cheek. Only then did she softly say, "Thank you, Callen."

"You're welcome."

She headed for the door, but just before she left, she turned back with a smile and said, "See you tomorrow, partner."

Callen groaned. That woman was going to be the death of him. Still, as his hand drifted up to his face and touched the spot where Beth's lips had brushed it, instead of finding a frown he felt a smile.


	4. Chapter 4

**4.**

At the Christmas party, Callen and Deeks took bets to see who would get drunk first – Kensi or Nell. Sam's vote for Eric didn't count, because every year the blond tech got blitzed before seven pm. And just like every year, he was currently fast asleep, curled up beneath Nell's desk with a stocking clutched in his grasp.

"There they are," Deeks said, elbowing Callen and pointing to the punch bowl, where the two women stood laughing at something. Both seemed a little tipsy already, and this brought much joy to Deeks' blue eyes. "Oh, this is gonna be some easy money."

"Cool it, Shaggy," Callen replied with a snort. "The way your partner is taking down shots, she'll be passed out in an hour."

Deeks just grinned.

Sam joined them then, a cup of punch in his large hand. He followed Callen's gaze to the two women and chuckled, shaking his head.

"What's so funny?" Callen asked, downing the last of his second eggnog and licking the nutmeg from his top lip.

"That right there?" Sam replied with a nod toward the women. "That's trouble waiting to happen."

Deeks smiled. "Yeah, we're kind of counting on that."

"Not for them. For you."

Callen tilted his head as he realized Sam was looking at him. "Me?" As Sam nodded, Callen frowned. "Nah."

Sam just sighed. "You'll see."

That was two hours ago, and so far except for Eric Beale, everyone was awake and relatively upright.

Well, some more than others.

At that very moment, Callen's lips were pressed tightly against those of a certain tiny redhead, and though they tasted of alcohol and fruit, he couldn't say he wasn't enjoying it. Nell's arms were looped around his neck, her hands in his short hair and her eyes closed. He could see the sparkle of glittery eyeshadow on her lids, and her lashes were long and dark. She definitely hit a high number on the G. Callen Attractiveness Scale.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the same shocked expression on every one of their friends' faces. It might have been the numerous cups of eggnogg and spiked punch or the intoxicating scent of her lilac perfume, but either way an idea suddenly hit him.

Just as Nell was about to pull away, he trapped her face between his hands and kissed her back, harder and with more heat than she had every felt. Nell's eyes flew open in surprise, but to her credit she did not pull away.

When they finally broke apart, gasping, he looked down at her and smiled. "How was that for a mistletoe kiss?"

She nodded vigorously, still too shocked and embarrassed to speak, and quickly made her retreat into the computer lab. Callen watched her go, still smirking, and then glanced upward at the sprig of mistletoe tacked above the doorway.

Silently amused at Deeks' fish impression, he said, "Hey, Sam...care to make a bet?"


	5. Chapter 5

_AN: So this one's a little longer than the rest, but I felt like I needed to fully flesh it out so it wouldn't be too confusing. However, that also made it hard to end at a natural place. LOL Anyway, enjoy this last chapter of kisses! :)_

* * *

><p>The Five Times Callen Got Kissed<p>

(And the one time he didn't)

**5.**

The club was loud, the music pounding in his ears and vibrating his chest, but the only thing he could concentrate on was the girl in the emerald green blouse and black miniskirt. She had some kind of fruity drink in her hand, the rim of the glass stained with her lipstick, and when she laughed at something her male companion said her mouth curved into the most gorgeous smile he had ever seen. Looking down at his own clothes, Callen thanked Hetty for her amazing fashion sense. His sapphire blue silk shirt was a perfect complement to his eyes, and the black jeans she had chosen were just dressy enough without being uptight, though she had insisted they be tailored to fit him well.

"God forbid we hide your...assets..." she had said, causing him to blush so deeply he appeared sunburned and her to purse her lips and chuckle behind them. He would rather not discuss his "assets" with anyone, but especially not Hetty. But now, as the woman he'd been observing noticed him, her eyes traveling from his face to somewhere around his middle, he decided to buy his ops manager the best tea he could find.

The woman took a sip of her drink and excused herself from the man's company, but before she left he bent down and planted a kiss on her mouth, then moved to whisper something in her ear. Callen stifled the sudden possessive impulse that rushed through him at that, instead keeping his eyes on her hips swaying seductively as she walked away from the man and toward Callen. He went to meet her, taking her glass and setting it down on a nearby table, and with their hands clasped they walked out onto the dance floor. She looped her arms around his neck and he gripped her around the waist, his fingers sliding against the silky fabric of her blouse as they danced to the slow song that had just come on over the sound system.

Leaning her head on his shoulder so she wouldn't have to shout to be heard, she asked, "Like what you see?"

Callen grinned. "You clean up nice, Agent Willis. Looks like a few others are liking the view, too, by the way."

"That was the point," she replied as he buried his face against her neck, his nose nuzzling the sensitive skin behind her ear making her bite her lip against a soft moan. "And call me Theresa."

"Well, Theresa," Callen said almost directly into her ear, "it's working. You two have a nice chat?"

"We did. He even invited me to his place. Said he had some interesting things to show me."

His hand wandered down to the hem of her skirt, his fingers toying with the edge, and she played back by slipping her hand under his shirt, her nails dragging against his bare skin. Though she could hear his breath grow ragged, he managed to keep his voice level as he replied, "Nice work. He took the bait; with any luck we'll have him by the end of the night."

"What do you mean, 'we'?" Theresa asked, her nails digging into his flesh just enough to hurt a little, and he winced, uttering a nervous laugh. "You wouldn't be able to get close if it wasn't for me."

Callen retaliated by grabbing the back of her thigh and squeezing. "You're right. But we were the ones who turned the FBI onto this case."

She smiled, not missing his innuendo. "Point taken."

"Besides," he went on, his hand sliding just an inch higher, "nothing's a done deal yet. He gets any indication that something's up and he could move the girls."

"Are you asking if I'm up to seeing this thing through?" She asked.

Giving a short nod, he twirled them so that they were facing the other way, his blue eyes suddenly serious. "Actually, I'm telling you he's watching us. Like a hawk."

She glanced over his shoulder and saw he was right. The man – their target – was studying them closely. A most unladylike word crossed Theresa's lips and Callen hid a smile, instead pretending to play with the front of her blouse. Looking up at his handsome face, she reached up and ran her fingers over the stubble on his jaw. "Well, then," she said, her voice suddenly husky, "it's a good thing he enjoys watching, isn't it?"

Callen's blue eyes went wide. "Really?"

"Just one of the many tidbits he offered up while we were flirting." Her hands on his shoulders, she pressed closer to him and murmured, "Now hurry up and kiss me before he high-tails it out of here."

He hesitated a moment, his tongue subconsciously darting out to wet his lips before he quickly bent his head and pressed them against hers. Her eyes closed as his hands tangled in her auburn hair, his mouth seemingly stealing every bit of air in her lungs. His tongue slid along her bottom lip and she opened her mouth to let her own tongue join it, tasting the smooth flavor of the whiskey he'd been drinking on his lips, driving her further from her sense of self-control.

Too soon, Callen broke the kiss. His eyes were a little dazed as he looked down at her. "That do the trick?"

Theresa caught a glimpse of their target and nodded. "Definitely. But I think he might need a little more convincing."

"Hmm..." he rumbled, his hand drifting down her back sending a chill up her spine. "Wouldn't want him getting spooked..."

Just before their lips met a second time, a familiar voice spoke into his earwig. "Callen, we got company. I'm counting four, no, five men heading into the club."

Never taking his eyes from Theresa, Callen nodded slightly. "I read you, Deeks. Anyone we know?"

"Remember those guys from DNA?"

Callen huffed. "Little too well."

"Yeah, looks like they're looking for round two," Sam spat.

"Perfect timing," he groaned. "Okay. I'll try and slip out before they see me."

"Back to the grind, huh?" Theresa asked then, and he grinned.

"Business as usual," he replied as the newcomers entered the room. To his chagrin they instantly recognized him, and as they pulled guns from under their coats Callen pushed Theresa behind the bar and slipped his own gun from under his shirt. After ordering her to stay down, he disappeared into the screaming, rushing crowd, and she didn't see him again until the fight was over.

Three dead gunmen later, Callen stood in the alley with his hands on his hips, watching the other two being led away by his team. Theresa came to stand beside him, likewise taking in the scene. She didn't realize he had noticed her arrival until he spoke to her.

"Guess it's back to the drawing board with the human traffic case."

She nodded, breathing out a heavy sigh. "Gonna be a lot harder to catch him, now that he's been spooked. Wouldn't be surprised if he killed the girls he has now and digs in somewhere else."

"Sorry," Callen genuinely apologized. "We had no idea DNA was gonna show up."

"I know." They stood in silence for a minute, and then she looked up and smiled at him. "At least I got something out of the whole thing, though."

His eyebrows knit together in a frown. "Yeah? What's that?"

Leaning up on her toes, she said into his ear, "I got to find out what it's like to kiss the legendary bachelor Agent G. Callen."

As he stared down at her, speechless, she pressed a soft kiss against his cheek, then walked away to join some of her fellow FBI agents, oblivious to the fact that Sam was calling his name and certain that Agent Theresa Willis would occupy his dreams for nights to come.


	6. Chapter 6

_Okay, so I wracked my brain long and hard on this one, trying to think of one person who would NOT kiss Callen. It's a sad ending, but I think it fits his personality - he puts up a good mask of jokes and smiles, but when he's alone his past haunts him - and only this person can comfort him during those times._

_To make up for the emotional whumpage, I'll start posting my newest fic. Deal? And now..._

* * *

><p>...The One Time He Didn't (Get Kissed)<p>

Only in his dreams can he remember her, his blond-haired mother with eyes the same ocean blue as his own. He can see her pretty face peering down at him in his crib, see her smile as she walks with him to the park. Only when he sleeps can he feel her hand around his, hear her sparkling laughter echo through their home in Romania. He can feel her lips brush his cheek, and when he wakes with a gasp the ghostly feeling fades away, his heart heavy in its emptiness. In the dark he lays still, listening, hoping to feel her there with him, but all is silent.

He is alone.

The lonliness bearing down on him weighs a ton, bricks holding his body to the floor and crushing his chest. Tears fall like rain down his cheeks but he cannot wipe them away – he has neither the strength nor the will. They clog his throat until he is forced to either sit up or be drowned, and though he wishes for the latter he finds himself struggling to his elbows and then further upward. He blinks to clear his vision but remains seated on his bedroll, his hands clenched into fists.

He is angry now, rage at being left abandoned in the world burning inside him. Picking up a book laying nearby, he hurls it across the room with a shout, his chest heaving as the book hits a lamp and knocks it to the ground, shattering it. He feels no better, but he has run out of things to throw, so he lets his hands rest in his lap and once more listens to the dark.

There is a sound, a soft footstep in the hallway. A shadow slants across the doorway and into his room, and then she is there. Not his mother, never her, but close.

She comes near to him, silent as she rests her hand comfortingly on his head, and he feels his breath hitch in his chest. She is not one for shows of affection, and especially not kisses, but the touch of her hand comforts him more than her lips on his forehead ever could. Her presence soon calms him, and his eyes begin to feel gritty with sleep. She gently guides him onto his back and lays his light blanket over him, her wrinkled hands smoothing it down before running over his close-cropped hair. He begins to speak but she hushes him, a sad smile on her face.

"Sleep," she tells him, the light of the moon reflecting off her glasses, and he nods obediently, not caring that she is treating him like a child.

It is when she is walking away that he finally does speak.

"I miss my mom."

Henrietta Lange stops and again gives the same sad smile as before. Regarding the orphaned boy-turned-man before her, she softly replies, "So do I, Callen. Very much."


End file.
